Cousin Abby
by cloudgirl9
Summary: Watson and Mary have broken off their engagement, much to Holmes' delight. Now he can find Watson a woman that he approves of, but could he find the perfect match in his own cousin, Abigail Newton? Watson/OC
1. Chapter 1

**I'm surprised at how small of a following this new movie has since it's so awesome… anyways, this is a Watson/OC story**

"…or why you see fit to completely sabotage my relationship with Mary?!" Watson shouted, earning some annoyed looks from others in the prison yard.

_That is only because I do not find her worthy of you, Watson!_ Holmes thought, but did not say as he did not want his friend even more mad at him.

* * *

My name is Abigail Newton, Abby for short. I am currently twenty-two and living in London, England. You might say I like to live a bit on the edge.

I seem to have this in common with my cousin, Sherlock Holmes, though surely not as severe. The two of us would regularly go on adventures as children, many times excluding cousin Mycroft, and all the while sharpening our minds and physical skills. My parents did not like my boy-like antics and sent me off to an all-girls preparatory school when I turned thirteen. When I was finished at age eighteen, I left my parents and their money in order to pursue a life of my own. Wanting to escape, I had gone to America.

I did however grow just a touch homesick for my dear England. Not knowing where else to go, I am now on the doorstep of my favourite cousin, Mr. Sherlock Holmes at 221b Baker Street.

Ringing the doorbell, a woman answered. I became worried that I had the wrong house.

"Hello, I'm looking for Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

"Do come in, he's just upstairs. I hope ever so much that you have a case for him… he's been all but going insane in that little room of his."

I walked in from the cold January air and chuckled, "I'm afraid not, but I believe my presence should cheer him up some."

The woman knocked on the door to a room, "Mr. Holmes, there is a young lady here to see you!"

"By all means let her in, Nanny!" a somewhat familiar voice said from within.

Walking in, I saw him sitting by the window, violin in hand. He looked very different from when I had last seen him, but that had been when he was eighteen and I thirteen. His hair had grown a bit and was still rather unkempt and his eyes still looked a little bit strange but good nonetheless. He turned to me and stood up.

"Abby, my dear! It's been what, nine years? Where on earth have you been?" Setting down his violin, he came up and hugged me.

I smiled, "Mother and Father sent me to that dreadful preparatory school and when I was finished I went to America for a while. I only just got back and was hoping I could stay with you since I've been cut off from all funds since I left."

"You're practically my little sister, so I see no reason why not."

"Thank you ever so much, Sherlock!" I smiled widely, "I've heard that you've been doing detective work?"

"Indeed… indeed, and it is rather marvelous the mental challenges it poses… of course it makes the in-between time so much more boring."

"Always the impatient one, hm?"

"In this case yes…" he trailed off then went to the door, "Mrs. Hudson! Find a room in here that is not too cluttered for my dear cousin Abby."

"Yes Mr. Holmes." She said and brought me up another flight of stairs to a small plain bedroom.

Setting my bag upon the nightstand, I walked back downstairs to my cousin's strange room. He had always been the messy one in the family and now that he was living on his own it seemed to have gone a bit over the top. Mrs. Hudson brought us up some tea and we talked for a solid hour or so.

Later, a man came up the stairs and into the room, "Holmes, please tell me you didn't do anything to Gladstone today?"

I giggled, and he seemed surprised to see me.

"I'm terribly sorry Miss, but I do not believe that we have been acquainted," He said smiling rather dashingly.

"I am Abigail Newton, Sherlock's cousin. But please call me Abby." I said shaking his hand.

"My name is Dr. John Watson, and I am your dear cousin's friend, though sometimes he treats me as his nanny. You may call me whatever you like, Abby."

I smiled at him, "Then I hope you don't mind me calling you Watson."

"Not at all."

"Now then, why do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Watson?" Sherlock asked rather gruffly.

"I'm afraid I'm going to be moving back in… Mary and I broke off the engagement." He said rather matter-of-factly.

My cousins next remark was dripping with sarcasm, "Such a shame that the two of you did not work out."

"Indeed, but we mustn't dwell on things of the past. Have we got any interesting cases?"

Sherlock motioned for a pile of papers on the table beside me. I picked them up and began reading aloud the main points, "Let's see… a Mr. Tapulec's sixteen-year-old daughter is missing, a Mr. Montey's nineteen-year-old son is missing…"

"The two have eloped to France, next case."

"A woman was found dead in her apartment with a knife in her back and a puddle of water on the floor…"

"She encased the knife in ice and then fell atop it in order to make it look like a murder."

"Oh this one's interesting… a man believes that his dead wife has become a vampire and has been killing his servants."

"That does sound rather engaging, eh Holmes?" Watson said, unpacking a small briefcase of medical equipment.

"Indeed… Right then, off to meet this man… what is his name?"

"Mr. Thomas Jacobson."

"Right then. Shall we?" He said, grabbing a hat and coat from a pile of clothes.

We left the apartment and got into a carriage to take us to the man's home on the outskirts of London.

About 15 minutes into the ride, Watson suddenly said to Sherlock "Is that my jacket you're wearing?"

"It was no longer yours since you left it at _my_ apartment."

"Holmes! That was one of my favourite jackets!"

"You weren't using it, so I did. And no, you may not have it back."

I decided to intervene, "Sherlock, give Watson his jacket back."

"Nonsense Abby, we used to share clothes all the time when he lived with me."

"_You_ used to _steal_ my clothes when I lived with you! And now I live with you again, so if you'd please give it back?"

"Sherlock, you really should give it back. Just because he left it at your house doesn't mean it is instantly yours."

My cousin grumbled, "I'll give it to you when we get back home seeing as I have no other jacket to wear but yours."

John sighed. I looked at him and smiled sympathetically. He mouthed 'thank you' to me and I smiled again.

We shortly arrived at Mr. Jacobson's house. Ringing the doorbell, we waited.

A very scared looking little woman answered the door. Upon hearing who we were, she let us in and began leading us to the parlor of the house. I noticed that she was walking strangely down the hall, occasionally stepping to the side as if avoiding something she knew was there. I took a step and felt something click beneath my foot. Suddenly, I was tackled to the ground by Watson, who had been behind me. I blushed heavily and when I turned to look why he had pushed me to the ground to see a large ax, wreathed in garlic, had swiped right where my head had been. The servant woman was extremely apologetic, saying that Mr. Jacobson had booby-trapped the house because he thought that his supposedly undead wife was out to kill him.

Watson helped me to my feet. In the narrow hallway, he pulled me upwards and I was right against his chest. He smelled like a combination of incense and musk, a very woody scent that engulfed me and made me feel warm. I blushed and thanked him, then continued down the hallway after the maid.

This would be an interesting case.

**Please review and let me know if I should continue! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wowza! I've gotten a ton of story alerts for this one, so I'm gonna continue it. Please be sure to write a review! Any and every suggestion is welcomed!!! Also, add me to favorites in addition to story alert because then people who go and look at your page can see what great taste you have in stories! *wink wink***

The servant woman brought us some tea in the parlor and not long after, Mr. Jacobson came in.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes! I'm glad that you found an interest in the case I have for you. I see you brought the famous Dr. Watson as well! And who might the young lady be?"

"This is Ms. Abigail Newton, my cousin."

"It's a pleasure to know that I am in such good hands with the three of you."

"Well I can make no promises until you give us a short summary of your predicament."

"My wife died about six months ago, and shortly before I had found out that she'd been having an affair with another man. I never did find out his name, but from what my servants told me of the man that they had seen, he was tall, pale, had black hair and an aura of evil. My wife soon fell very ill and died. About two months later, I found one of my servants brutally murdered on the grounds. It appeared as though an animal had ripped out his throat. Soon, more of my servants began showing up dead like this, inside and outside the house. The most recent attack was on my trusted manservant Gregory, who was still barely alive when we found him. He told me that he had seen my wife walking the grounds at night with an unearthly glow about her. I then proceeded to bury all the servants with lots of garlic and set up traps around the house."

"Yes, we found that last part out the hard way…" I commented when he finished.

"Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry about that. I was unaware that you would be coming over today."

"Did you ever find out the name of the man your wife was having an affair with?" Watson inquired.

"No, unfortunately I never did," he looked very apologetic, "please let me know if you need any other information."

"If we could have a look around the house and grounds, I think that would provide us with information to start our investigation." Sherlock said, messing with something he'd pulled from his little pouch.

"Certainly, you have free range of the entire grounds. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to in town. Please take a crucifix with each of you for protection." He handed us each a string of beats with a cross. I reluctantly took mine and wrapped it around my wrist.

As Mr. Jacobson left the room, Sherlock asked me what I thought of him, "His nervousness is evident in both his demeanor and overall cleanliness. I noticed that he had a few nicks from his most recent shave, which leads me to believe that when he is alone he thinks he sees things sneaking up on him in the mirror and jerks his head just the slightest. One of his jacket buttons was missing as well… and there was a tear on his sleeve. I think he's been somewhere with tight spaces and lots of pointy objects."

"Indeed… he also seemed rather anxious to leave… we should have our look around so that we make it back for Mrs. Hudson to make us some dinner." He got up and began inspecting things around the room. Watson looked a bit dumbfounded at mine and my cousin's observational skills, but quickly shook it off and joined our search for clues.  
Following Sherlock's lead, I looked wandered about the house, investigating anything out of place. Before long, I came across a locked door. My lock picking skills were alright, so I pulled out a bobby pin from my hair and began messing with the lock. I was having some difficulty when all of a sudden, the door crashed open. I looked up, fairly surprised, to see Watson had just kicked down the door!

"Pardon me, Abby, but I find my methods much faster than yours and Holmes'" He offered me his hand and helped me up.

I giggled a bit, "Yes well, I can't exactly kick the door down wearing this dress now can I?" I smiled at him before carefully proceeding down the set of steps behind the door.

Halfway down, Watson stopped me, "Perhaps I should go in front, seeing as I have a gun just in case." He pulled a revolver from his coat.

I rolled my eyes and drew a pistol from beneath my skirt, "No need. I am perfectly capable and a much better shot than my dear cousin."

He smiled and shook his head as I turned around and continued down the steps carefully.

We reached the bottom and there was a lantern hanging on a hook beside the stairs. Watson pulled a match from his pocket and lit it.

The room around us lit up. There was a regular looking cellar with some old furniture covered with sheets. Something odd that I noticed was some jars with small labels on them.

The only label I could make out read 'Thallium.' I notified Watson, and we quickly went back up the stairs and shut the door.

We soon found Sherlock and told him of our discovery, "There was a jar of Thallium in the basement, and we don't know what for."

"Let's see… Thallium. Common poison, used to control rats and ants mostly… a very slow acting poison if dosed correctly. Perhaps Mrs. Jacobson was poisoned?" I hypothesized.

"It's certainly possible, but that doesn't explain the murders of the servants…"

"A dog will certainly rip out a person's throat if it's been starved and the person's throat has been cut open with a knife. In India, I had to be careful when changing bandages because the stray dogs just saw the wounds as meat."

"If this is the case, then who cut the servants' throats? And how could the now dead manservant have seen the then already dead Mrs. Jacobson?"

"I don't know yet… perhaps we should tour the grounds?"

We headed out onto the grounds. I was still a bit puzzled by one thing, "If his dead wife is out to get him, why kill the servants?"

"That's true, it's not like he's going to be scared if servants die. They're servants and they are expendable to him."

"Perhaps they know something that they aren't supposed to…?"

"An interesting theory Watson…" we had arrived at a sort of shed, "Now then, let's see what we can find in here."

We wound our way between an old buggy and a wall full of rakes and shovels. My sleeve caught on something sharp and I heard it tear just the slightest bit.

Continuing, we found a larger space in the back of the shed. There was a chain on the wall and a small bowl on the ground. The dirt floor was littered with large paw prints.

As we found our way back to the house, we found the servant woman who'd let us in.

"Excuse me miss! Could you answer some questions for us please?" Watson called to her.

She nodded and came over. Sherlock asked the first question, "Is there any information that you know that Mr. Jacobson didn't tell us?"

Her eyes darted about, checking to see if anyone else was nearby. Then she whispered, "He was having an affair, not the Missus."

"Do you know whom with perchance?" I inquired. She shook her head.

"All I know is whenever the Missus was out of town, he had another woman over and she always spent the night."

"Can you remember what she looked like?" Watson asked, taking out a pen and notebook from his pocket.

The servant woman thought for a moment, "Average height, Red-Blonde hair and greenish eyes from what I saw of her. She looked as though could have been the Missus' sister. Very thin face as well… pretty, but not as much as the Missus or you, Miss Newton." I smiled and thanked her for the compliment.

"Any other details?" Sherlock inquired.

"I believe she mentioned once that she was a Governess… although I'm not quite sure."

I noticed Watson grow fairly pale. He calmly put the pen and notebook away. Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and headed out the door.

Completely puzzled as to what the situation was, I quickly asked Sherlock.

"Mary, Watson's former fiancée, is average height, red-blonde with green eyes and a thin face who works as a governess. They'd been together two years when they broke up… which means that she was likely dating Mr. Jacobson as well."

"Oh dear… the poor man… Sherlock, why don't you go get the carriage ready, I'll find Watson, alright?"

"Yes, we do need to be getting back soon."

I walked out the door and instinctually headed for the small garden I'd seen during our earlier tour of the grounds.

Watson was sitting on a bench, his cane in hand, grimacing while staring at the setting sun.

Silently, I sat beside him.

"I thought I loved her but… It doesn't matter anyway. She never loved me it seems. The first time I go through a relationship and rationally come out of it I find that the woman I loved was also seeing another man. Of all the rotten luck…"

His words were full of sadness, resentment and regret. I studied his face.

"It's not your fault you know." I piped up.  
"What?"

"Her having another man on the side, it's not your fault. So she wasn't satisfied with just you. That's her problem! In a relationship, both people should be just enough the way they are. If she can't commit, then she isn't worth the time. Not even to think about after you've broken up," I put my hand on his and he looked at me, "don't dwell on things of the past. They only drag you down."

Standing up, I turned to head for the carriage, but his hand grasped mine and I turned to look at him. He stood up and, still holding my hand, thanked me for comforting him. I blushed the slightest bit and smiled before the two of us began walking back to the main house to get a ride back home.


	3. Chapter 3

****THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REVISED! If you have already read it, please begin re-reading from the first divider!****

**It seems that this story already has a following bigger than any of my other stories, so it will be one of my top priorities! Thank you all so much for being so supportive! Review Please!**

**Also, I'm sorry that there have been such big gaps between the publishing of each chapter. I'm trying to make a case that actually flows, so I've been doing lots of brainstorming. That combined with plenty of schoolwork is just becoming a bit hectic.**

**This chapter is brought to you in part by The Beatles! Their music influenced where I went with this chapter. Go listen to them!**

When we arrived back at the apartment and walked back upstairs to Sherlock's room, I gave him a stern look.

"What?" He said, sitting in a chair and pulling out his pipe.

"Aren't you forgetting something, cousin?" I smiled at him, but kept my eyes in glare mode.

He grumbled and got up, taking off Watson's coat and handing it to me.

"Thank you ever so much!" I smiled and handed Watson his coat back.

He chuckled, "Quite a short leash you've got him on, hm?"

"I think it's just the right length. Now then, back to the case. What can we safely assume based on what we found?"

"Mr. Jacobson lied to us for one thing; he was the one having an affair, not his late wife." Sherlock said, digging through a pile of dirty clothes looking for a new coat.

"Also, Mrs. Jacobson was likely poisoned over a long period of time with the Thallium we found in the basement." Watson added.

"Right… but Mr. Jacobson doesn't seem the type to be conspiring, don't you think? He seems much too introverted and skittish."

Sherlock pulled an old coat from the bottom of the heap, "That is true… perhaps it was another? Our suspects so far are Mr. Jacobson and Ms. Morstan."

Watson flinched at the mention of her name, but kept composure. I was a tad worried for him. He seemed a very respectable man. Why this Mary Morstan had even considered cheating on him is beyond me. He is very smart, and a good man. Not so bad looking either… Good lord, what am I thinking? I need to focus on the case…

Mrs. Hudson called us down to dinner, and I tried to focus the conversation on more trivial things than the case, taking into consideration Watson's emotional reaction to the mentioning of Ms. Morstan.

"You really need to visit America in the near future, cousin. The air there is so much fresher! The people are of a great variety of backgrounds and together provide a most interesting experience."

"Perhaps, little Abby, you should take dear Watson with you on your next trip? I think he could use a bit of a break." Holmes said calmly, but I could tell he was inwardly smirking.

Watson looked up from his plate at the mention of his name in the same sentence as mine, "America? I have wanted to go for some time… but not for a while, I have things to attend to here."

I tried my best to keep from looking a bit disappointed as I continued eating.

After dinner, I bid the two gentlemen goodnight and headed upstairs to my new room. I quickly got dressed for bed and was very grateful not to have to sleep on a rocking ship tonight.

* * *

There was a woman standing over me. Her face was thin and her hair was strawberry blonde in the moonlight. The pain in my side was growing. I noticed blood in her hair and on her hands. My hands desperately groped for my gun as I worried about the others. I knew that was Watson's blood on her, and that made me ache worse. She dragged me up and put me on a chair. Smiling strangely, she pointed to the other end of the room. I looked and saw Sherlock and Watson on the floor, blood surrounding the both of them. "No!" I shouted. Tears streamed down my face as I rushed towards them. I heard the last gunshot before I felt it ripple through my weak body. Then it all faded away.

* * *

I awoke from the nightmare drenched in sweat. My breath was ragged and my knuckles white from where I'd been clutching the sheets.

The knock on the door made me jump, "*ahem* c-come in…"

A very worried looking Watson opened the door, "Are you alright? I heard you shout something. You look as though you've seen a ghost!" Walking forward, he put his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever. He then grabbed my wrist and measured my pulse, "Your heart rate is a bit fast, but you seem to be alright."

"I had the most horrible nightmare…" I said, relieved that it had all been a dream.

"Come with me downstairs, I'll fix you some tea."

He helped me out of bed and we quietly walked down the stairs, his arm around my waist supporting me. I sat down at the small kitchen table as he put on the water and got out cups. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, trying to recall what had terrified me so much in my dream. Watson sat down beside me just as I remembered what I'd seen. I gasped and opened my eyes.

He looked at me, "Are you sure you're alright? Do you want to talk about whatever made you so scared?"

I then became aware that I was trembling. Watson took my cold hands in his and looked me in the eye, "It's going to be alright. Everything's fine. Now, what happened in your dream?"

His warm hands were comforting, "I… I was lying on the ground… I think I'd been shot. There was a woman over me, and she dragged me to a chair. That's when I saw it… blood everywhere… and…" I was choking up, "Sherlock and you were…" I couldn't say it. Saying it made it seem so much more real.

Warm arms enveloped me as Watson hugged me tightly. His scent engulfed me and I felt much calmer. My shaky breath became steady as he whispered, "It's alright… it was only a dream…"

The kettle was whistling and Watson stood up to pour the water for our tea. I was starkly aware of the cold kitchen as our warm embrace broke. He handed me a cup of tea and sat beside me again. The tea warmed me, but I still felt cold… I wanted his arms around me again. The feeling of safeness invoked by his touch and smell was addicting.

We drank our tea in silence. I stood to go to bed, and he stood as well. I thanked him for his help and turned towards the door, walking upstairs to my room and going back to bed.

* * *

The next morning I awoke to the sound of gunshots. I got up quickly and grabbed my robe from my suitcase and put it on. Rushing down the stairs, I rounded the corner at the landing to see a very annoyed Watson pounding on Sherlock's door, "Holmes! Let me in! And please stop shooting things and poisoning my dog!"

"OUR dog, Watson!" Sherlock said from inside.

I sighed and walked up to the door, "What on earth is going on here?! Both of you, stop arguing! Sherlock, open the damn door already. Watson, calm down and go get us some tea."

Sherlock grumbled something on the other side of the door and it soon opened. Watson sighed and walked downstairs, seemingly annoyed.

I gave Sherlock a look, "Now, would you care to tell me why you were _shooting_ something at," I glanced at the clock above the mantle, "Seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday?"

He set down the gun on a table filled with little pieces of metal and screws, "I've been in the process of creating attachments for my gun that make it do certain things. For example, a gunshot silencer," I followed his gaze to a strange tube attached to the front of his gun.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be working." I said, still a bit annoyed.

"That is exactly what Watson said about it the first time I tested it! Anyway, it is still in development," He said just as Watson walked in with a tray of tea for the three of us.

"Thank you Watson, I do hope this is not a normal occurrence?" I said apologetically.

"If you mean Holmes' complete disregard for personal time and space, then I'm afraid it is very regular." His face suggested annoyance, but his tone had a hint of humor to it.

I shook my head, smiling ever so slightly before I poured myself a cup of tea and added a few teaspoons of sugar. Taking a large gulp, which woke me up immensely, I thought to myself, _it is certainly going to be a long day…_


End file.
